


Blonde Haired Shrieking

by gcspingforcir



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Gen, Other, Pre-Death Tate Langdon, alive Tate Langdon, this is clearly not canon so don't give me shit if you don't like it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-28 01:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gcspingforcir/pseuds/gcspingforcir
Summary: Tate's getting ready for school but he isn't entirely sure if he's ready for his mother.This is a series based on how I, personally, think Tate would have been prior to the event of Murder House. I might write this as far as that season and stop but I may also continue into it depending on the response to this series and if I want to go that deep.I don’t know how often this will be updated but I will try to be as consistent as possible!





	1. Teenage Resistance

The clock on Tate’s nightstand won’t stop screaming for him to throw his exhausted limbs out of the bed he’s nestled himself into as sunlight begins to bleed through his old curtains. 

The familiar smell of cigarette smoke fills the teen’s nose as he grimaces from the vile substance oozing into his senses causing him to nearly gag from his lack of function at six a.m. in the morning.

A yawn fell from his lips as a hand raked down his face as he prepared himself for a day full of high school teachers and students being wretches as usual. Hell, he’s even preparing himself to speak to  _mother dearest_ not that he’s entirely enthused with the knowledge of having to interact with that woman. 

Nonetheless, he dressed for school, grabbed his bag full of all the various things he totes with him everywhere. Namely his walkman, sketchbook, whatever book he’s decided to read for the month and his school work ( _ ~~not that he ever really finishes it~~_ ) before slipping into the kitchen. He smiled warmly towards his sister who seems to be jumping out of her seat at the sight of the blonde teenager who seldom comes out of his room. That same smile faded when Constance Langdon opened her mouth to make some snarky remark about what he’s decided to wear today.

“It’s not like you’re the one wearing it,  _ **mother dearest**_.” his words only held  _venom_  while his eyes held a similar gaze as they locked with brown eyes that seem to grow _colder_  by the day.

Constance only scoffed at her son’s words as a cigarette hung loosely in her lips, the bitter scent filling Tate’s senses again as he rolled his eyes “I may not be the one wearing it but I certainly will not have my son going to school in  _ **that**_.”

Her words welcomed the start of a daily war about what Tate should wear, how he should act, how he needs to show more respect for his mother and so on. These arguments never really end not even when the bus comes to pick up the blonde to take him to a hell he can stand for a few hours.

He slumped into the seat closest to the back as Nirvana filled his ears for the short but agonizing ride to Westfield High.

A few teens sat around him in the back of the bus as they spoke among themselves before trying to pull Tate into their conversion, which he ignored like he does every single morning. He merely settled more as his arms crossed over his chest loosely, head resting against the bus window as brown eyes scanned the world as it seemed to rush past him.

After a stop to the middle school to drop all of the younger riders off the bus pulled into the high school parking lot as everyone seemed to collectively groan at the thought. Tate, however, seems both relieved and annoyed to be stepping through the doors as a principle or two shouts out his last name before telling him to put his music away for the day.

His boot covered feet trudged along until he settled in his usual spot as he began reading whatever horror book he’s currently borrowing from the library. Oddly enough reading seemed to make the thirty to forty minutes before first period go by quickly as he found himself settling into his English class as his second month of Sophomore year began.


	2. Rebellion

You would think Tate Elliot Langdon has learned to stop angering Constance in the early hours of the morning. Clearly, he hasn’t given the two of them have their common stare down as he simply rolls his eyes at every other word that oozes from her red painted lips. She an interview today and Tate has a plan to skip school, again, and go record shopping while she can’t stop or get mad at him until later tonight.

His plan seems to be flawless, especially the part where she tells him  **NOT**  to skip. Of course, he’s going to do it anyway because why would he pass up the chance to make her blood boil?

Her heel covered feet patted out the door and into her car as Tate simply waited, waited for his time to exit. He only smiles to Addy as she slowly seems to catch on but she has no intentions of ratting him out or getting overly curious. She knows Tate’ll bring her something back if he can find something she likes but they also have some sort of unspoken code to never let Constance know where he goes when she leaves for hours or days.

A few of the residential ghosts of the house seem disapproving, especially Nora in her state of slight lucidness. Her brows furrowed as she crossed her arms firmly over her chest and heaved a heavy sigh “Tate Elliot, what plans do you have?”

He couldn’t help but snicker at how worried the ghost he sees as a mother seems to be “Just record shopping, Nora. I’m not going very far, I just want to get out for a bit.” as much as the older ghost would love to fight her pseudo son about this, she’s not going to. She’ll just wave him off through the doorway before fading back inside only to lose her soft train of lucidness, causing her to wander through the house once more.

Tate hates how confused she gets and how she cries for her son, the monster in the basement, it isn’t far but there isn’t anything anyone can do.

He tugs his bag more on his shoulder while he walks towards the record shop he frequents whenever he can. The old store smells of dust and vinyl older than Tate and maybe even Constance. 

Gentle fingers thread along old vases and worn material as he flips through everything and grabs what he can. CD’s find a home in the small basket hooked to his arm along with a few CDs of songs he knows Addy’ll enjoy.

 The hours flew by as he looked through the entire store and grabbed everything his hands could grab before checking out at roughly ten p.m. on a cool Friday evening. He smiled a small thank you before gathering his bag full of treasures as he began the trek home, he can only hope Constance hasn’t come back it.

To his luck, she’s still gone as he enters the house and announces his presence childishly before climbing up the stairs. The few things he found for Addy were slipped under her bedroom door before the blonde went into his own room.

The door locked gently behind him as a sigh fell from his lips for the millionth time. Whatever calm he felt disappeared while he untied his boots and set them aside before lazily wandering over to his shelf crammed with music. The pieces of vinyl fit perfectly in their spots as he slipped an old Nirvana CD into his radio and cranked the sound up a little louder than usual.

His back flopped unceremoniously against his bed as brown eyes locked with the ceiling he’s started seeing patterns on. Legs lazily crossed over each other as hands tucked themselves beneath blonde curls that need a trim at some point.

It’s as if the universe knew the house was calm when the door opened and shut and those same heels clicked against the floor. Only today Constance didn’t angry at her son for skipping school for the millionth time she simply asked if he was home and if he’d eaten anything. He’ll never understand her strange way of loving him and hating him as he replies to her quietly but loud enough for her to be able to understand him.

Today seems to be lazily treading along even though it’s only ten thirty p.m. on some random Friday in some random month of the year.

The broken family sat at the table and had fun for once as they ate and talked about what they did for the day. Tate was even able to talk a bit about his albums with a woman he usually hates and she genuinely listened to him.

Maybe Constance isn’t always bad, maybe everything will get okay like it was before again. Or maybe everything will break when Larry comes home from the impromptu vacation he took a few days ago. For now, Tate is going to take every once of serenity and family he can grip on to even if it’s desperately trying to slip from between his fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> I run a [blog](https://gcspingforcir.tumblr.com/) by this same username where this fic was originally posted! Please feel free to pop on there and request anything from me! I really hope you enjoy the chapters in this!


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